Falling Slowly
by Serethiel96
Summary: "There were no words cruel enough in any of the languages ever created to describe the emotions killing the angel from the inside out. Every inch of his Grace was drowning with it, screaming as it consumed him. No, God, please no." When it comes to saving Dean, Castiel will do anything. Even if it means his own life is forfeit. Destiel. Warning: Character death(s)... Sort of.


**A/N: I am not ready for Wednesday's episode. Nope. Not at all. With all the promo stuff going around, the only thing keeping me sane right now is knowing that Misha's going to be a regular in season 9. About freaking time too. I missed my Cas. And I'm sure Dean missed his angel. *Sly grin* Anyways! I'm just gonna apologize for this in advance. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I am a cruel person. But saying that, I hope you continue to read! This was originally a really short one-shot and now it's turned into at least a four chapter monster. I'm not very regular with my updates, due to school and such. But I really hope to finish this soon!**

**Read on, lovelies!**

**Not beta-ed yet, so all mistakes are mine!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Eric Kripke. I own nothing. I also don't own the song, Falling Slowly, which basically inspired this. It's pretty much my go-to Destiel song besides Tears of an Angel.**

**Ship: Dean/Cas**

**Warning... Character death… Sort of. You'll see what I mean.**

_**Falling Slowly**_

There are times in people's lives when it just seems impossible for things to get any worse. This overwhelming darkness just overshadows everything pure and good in life, leaving it for rot and ruin. More than once, it left Castiel pondering if happiness was a blessing or a twisted form of pain. He had felt happiness in its purest of forms, relished it and kept it close.

He should've known it would never last.

He wondered if this is why God was so against his first children having emotions in the first place. He knew, He knew it would never last. They would all end up prisoners to how they felt, unable to complete their true purposes. Or was is possible He just never wanted to see them hurt? Angels were never meant to feel. Castiel knew this more than any of his siblings.

Now he just wanted to die.

Everything in creation has its parallel. Light has darkness, hope has despair; failure. Why would God do this? How could He allow something as beautiful as happiness exist when He ultimately knew that agony would follow shortly? In the end, it didn't matter how happy he used to be, for all happiness must come to an end, no matter how painful it may be.

It's called death.

There were no words cruel enough in any of the languages ever created to describe the emotions killing the angel from the inside out. Every inch of his Grace was drowning with it, screaming as it consumed him. No physical pain he had ever felt could even begin to compete with the torment that now chained him.

No, God, please no.

He would do anything.

It couldn't be true. He didn't...

No. Not him. Never him.

It wasn't true... But the bloodied angel sword that fell from his hand and clattered loudly on the floor told a totally different story.

As did the expanding wound that painted across Dean's torso.

For the first time in his entire existence, Castiel wept. Desperate pleas flooded from his mouth as he collapsed beside his charge, frantically checking for a pulse. No lively thump met his fingertips to signal that there was still hope. No rhythmic beat showed signs of life.

Castiel's hand slipped from its place under Dean's neck, moving so it rested over the hunter's still chest. He gripped at the fabric, grabbing it into a fist as he laid his forehead on top of it. His tears created large wet spots on the dark clothing.

The angel tablet lay forgotten and discarded across the room, broken into several pieces. Castiel cursed the damned thing in the vilest ways he could muster up in every language he knew. He cursed Metatron for creating it in the first place. This would never have happened if it never existed.

Dean wouldn't be... Couldn't be... Wasn't.

But he was.

Dead.

Dean was dead.

Castiel raised his head and moved his hand so that it caressed Dean's cheek. He ran his thumb tenderly over the freckles that painted across his face, knowing that Dean would never open his eyes and demand for Cas to stop with the "chick-flick" moment. He wouldn't flinch as the water pouring from Castiel's eyes fell on his face. He was still warm. The angel gathered his human into his arms, holding him as a parent might hold their child. His arm supported Dean's shoulders, his hand tightly clutching the place where his mark was once displayed on Dean's shoulder, while the rest of the hunter's body draped across his legs.

Castiel just held him there. He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to Dean's own, stroking a hand through the hunter's dark hair. His mind traveled back to Purgatory. It had felt so good being held close to Dean's chest; he could still feel Dean's arms wrap around him and pull them together. He remembered that he never hugged him back.

He held on tighter.

"Dean...Please...Please...," he whispered. "Wake up... Just wake up..." But he knew Dean wasn't going to wake up. He was never going to open his eyes again. Castiel would never again be able to relish the way his bright emerald orbs shined when he laughed. He loved it when he was the cause of the laughter. He even savored the way they resembled a storm when he was angry. He hated making Dean mad, though.

He would never see either again. And it was all his own fault.

Dean was dead and it was all the angel's fault.

He didn't remember reaching out and grabbing the angel sword. He just found it in his violently trembling hand. He nearly dropped it at the sight of Dean's blood slowly dripping down the blade. Slowly, it oozed down the weapon, running over the hilt and onto Castiel's hand. There was no way he could hold back the wail that burst from his throat.

"You can still save him, you know."

Castiel's head shot up. He never even heard the flap of wings that should've given the new arrival away. Naomi stood close by, not looking at her brother, but instead stared at the wall.

Through his tears, Castiel saw red. His grip on the angel blade tightened. "You...You made me do this!" he screamed. "You're the one that made me lie all this time!"

"It was for your own benefit, Castiel."

"My _benefit_?!" he roared. "If you had my best benefit in mind, you would have left me alone! You would have left me to rot in Purgatory and Dean would still be alive!"

"I understand your anger, brother. It is not unreasonable." Castiel nearly threw the angel blade at his sister's head. "However," Naomi added, finally turning towards him, "all hope for your hunter's welfare hasn't been lost."

Castiel looked back down at the body in his arms, limp and growing cold. He closed his eyes tightly and through gritted teeth said, "And what makes you think I would dare listen to anything you have to say?"

"Because it's something that you already know."

The angel opened his eyes again, meeting Naomi's. Her eyes were scrunched in pity.

Oh.

_**Oh**_.

"Castiel, this has never been attempted before and I still firmly believe it would be wise to rather-"

"Leave me."

"Brother, I'm asking you to take in consideration-"

"I said, leave me," he repeated in a stronger tone. "You're acting like the subject is still able to be debated."

Naomi sighed, licking her lips as she looked at her broken sibling. "Very well. I'll just leave you to it then, shall I?"

Castiel didn't speak. This time his ears picked up on the wing beats as Naomi flew off, leaving him alone with the corpse once more.

Castiel was many things. True, he was ignorant of many human customs, which often earned him a lighthearted tease from Dean. But he wasn't stupid. If Naomi truly didn't want him to go forward with the task at hand, she could have stopped him. After all, she had him kill Samandriel with just an order. He was under her control when he... No. If Naomi wanted him to leave she could've made him. Castiel had never wished death on any of his siblings. This was a first.

He wasted no time. His hand grazed over Dean's forehead, lightly touching the skin before his palm covered it. His warm breath brushed against Dean's ear as Enochian spilled from his lips. His hand left Dean's forehead, reaching to grab the angel blade he had laid on top of his stomach. Castiel maneuvered so both his hands could be used and with one quick motion, he sliced his palm open, letting the blood flow freely down his hand before placing it once again on Dean's forehead for a few moments. As he continued to recite the Enochian, he watched as his blood absorbed into Dean's skin.

It was working.

Castiel's head dipped back down and he spoke faster into Dean's ear. His nose rubbed against the hunter's temple. The air in Naomi's White Room shifted, becoming thicker and much more dense. Wind seemed to come from no where, ruffling Castiel's dark hair and making his trench coat flap. He gripped Dean's shoulder again where his hand print once was. The wind grew stronger. Castiel spoke faster.

He was reaching the final moments of the ritual, the ancient language tumbling off his tongue.

Castiel raised his head, throwing it back and screaming out the last of the spell. Everything suddenly fell silent. The wind halted and the air was no longer dense. The angel's chest heaved as breath filled his vessel's lungs. He looked back down at Dean's face, eyes searching for any signs of restored life. Once more, he checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

His head dropped in defeat. The spell didn't work. He gently took the still very dead body from his lap and placed it in front of him. Maybe he didn't even say it right... Maybe if he tried again, then-

"Cas?"

All it took was that one word. One word caused the tears in Castiel's eyes to change into tears of relief. One word caused his world to begin again. He closed his eyes, relishing the sound as it washed over him. The angel rose to his feet with shaking legs, silently begging to anyone who would listen for this to be real. It had to be real.

'Please let this be real.'

Castiel turned around.

Questioning green eyes met teary blue. "Hello, Dean," he breathed out.

_**~SPN~SUPERNATURAL~SPN~**_

Falling slowly

Eyes that know me

And I can't go back.

Words that take me

And erase me

And I'm painted back.

But you have suffered enough

And warred with yourself

It's time that you've won.

_**~SPN~SUPERNATURAL~SPN~**_

_**1/?**_

***Hides behind a couch and pokes head over the edge.*… So am I kicked out of the fandom yet? I will fix this! I promise! But remember… Things normally get worse before they ever get always, reviews are welcomed, but shouldn't be forced. I'll post the next chapter regardless of the review count.  
**

**Also! I have a tumblr. I've changed url names so many times, but this one's pretty permanent. Castiels(-)heart(.tumblr)(.com.) 30 away from 1,000 followers!**


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